


i dont wanna be your friend i wanna kiss your lips

by heterophobicrichietozier



Series: i wanna be your girlfriend [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, F/F, Fem!eddie, Fem!richie, Fluff, HAROLD THEY'RE LESBIANS, Internalized Homophobia, Mutual Pining, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Underage Drinking, angst but there will be a happy ending, butch richie, femme Eddie, internal shame, lesbian reddie, vomiting (not detailed)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23919748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heterophobicrichietozier/pseuds/heterophobicrichietozier
Summary: Eddie thought that after the New Years eve party, after her night with Richie, that things would get easier. That Richie would want her, want to be with her. It turns out that Richie really was looking for a good time. So Eddie vows to loosen up, be fun, and be Richie's friend.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: i wanna be your girlfriend [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704601
Comments: 37
Kudos: 131





	1. i dont wanna be your friend

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one has all the angst and pining...Chapter two is mostly porn  
> update: so chapters one and two are pining...chapter three will be up soon with the porn!
> 
> This series is dedicated to my personal eddiekin whore, who has inspired a lot of the eddie you see

Eddie always dreamed of the perfect wedding. Wearing a beautiful cream colored gown, hair curled and braided elegantly around her head. A huge bouquet of lilies, satin bow around her waist, delicate rose gold ring on her finger. The kind of wedding you’d see in a fairytale. Eddie, walking down the aisle, chest swelling with love and adoration, unable to keep the smile from her face, or the tears from her eyes. Loving family watching from the sides, overcome with emotion at how beautiful and happy she looked. An adoring fiance waiting at the altar, handsome and smiling as she Eddie gracefully made her way to him…

That fantasy was contingent upon a couple of things, however. One, Eddie needed, first and foremost, to be in love. And so far, she hasn’t had any luck in that department. She seemed to repel any potential romantic partners with her annoyingly constant need for attention and validation. 

It’s not that Eddie meant to be annoying, she just didn’t grow up in an affectionate household, where she was given unconditional love and acceptance from a warm and welcoming family. Eddie's house was dark, wood paneling with musty floral curtains blocking out any natural light. The air inside was heavy and thick, hot molasses dripping into your lungs with every inhale. The Staunch asceticism encouraged by the church mixed with the overindulgence of snack foods made Eddie's house a confusing and uniquely uncomfortable experience. A place she never felt safe or truly welcomed. 

So when she started college a few months ago, Eddie was excited to make friends with Bev and Billie. They were so kind and genuine, accepting her into their group with open arms and easy friendship. Things were going better than ever when Eddie hooked up with an older girl from her theater class. Although she was intimate with Richie, Eddie was still uncomfortable and awkward in her own body, plagued by a homosexual guilt instilled from her mother and hometown. It had been the best night of Eddie's life, for the first time ever, feeling connected to someone in mind, body, and soul. Richie had been tender, harsh, incredibly confident and dominant, easily taking control where Eddie was unsure and shy. Before that night, Eddie had never really seen a vulva, never daring to look in the mirror or explore her own body. It had been so freeing, felt so loving, that Eddie felt herself float away, her mind soft and fuzzy while she trusted Richie to take care of her. 

Until that point, Eddie hadn’t ever thought it to herself, but it was clear, she had a crush on Richie. She had never had a crush on a boy. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t some day. She could still turn out normal! She could have fun with Richie, make love with Richie, but end up married to a wonderful man someday. That’s what college is for, anyway. Exploring and having fun before you settle down and do what you’re supposed to. It’s not like she was a— well, it's not like she was like Richie. Richie who never wore makeup, didn’t seem to own a hairbrush, who never wore proper clothes. She always wore baggy jeans, flannels, ugly patterned button ups. She dressed loud and masculine, had broad shoulders and thick thighs. Richie wasn’t afraid to be herself, unapologetic and brash, rude, funny, smart. It was as if Richie was unconcerned with the opinions of others. Men especially, she was chronically unimpressed. 

Eddie longed for that kind of confidence, to feel so secure as to look men in the eye, shoulders relaxed, smirking. Richie never looked to anyone for confirmation or permission. It’s not so surprising that Richie lost interest in Eddie after one night. Eddie was nothing like Richie or her friends. She was small, and soft, and feminine, which Eddie liked and thought Richie had as well. But the morning after they made love, it was clear that Richie viewed their hookup as just that—one night, fun, casual. 

———  
Warm and comfortable, Eddie stretched as she woke from a deep rejuvenating sleep. Blinking in confusion, she sat up and looked around. This was not her room…

Catching sight of Richies ugly button up, Eddie gasped as she remembered the New Years party, the game, sitting in Richies lap, and then. Richies hands, large and sure, teasing along Eddies body, running across her legs, holding tight to her waist, gripping her body and carrying her so fucking easily down the hall. Richie is thick, with strong arms and a solid core, able to hold Eddie and carry her and lift her up and manhandle her any way she wanted. Feeling Richie's eyes on her, dark and stormy, her hands on Eddie's body, gripping tight, made Eddie do things she never would have normally. Her cunt aches, sore and used, hot between her thighs. 

A glance at the clock and the voice down the hall tell Eddie that she has slept in longer than she ever would, so she pulls on her clothes from last night, and sneaks into the bathroom. The mirror reveals what she can already feel: she looks like a fucked out whore, flush with sex and covered in bruises. Trying to tame her hair into something at least decent, and make her clothes look put together, Eddie emerges from the bathroom and pads softly down the hall. The others look up and shout wild and suggestive things at her, while she bites her lip and looks at her feet. Eddie can feel her face heat back up, overwhelmed as her friends caw at her. 

Looking up, finally, as the shouts trickle off, Eddie confirms what she already guessed: Richie was nowhere in sight. Making quick excuses, Eddie scurries into Richie's room, grabs her phone and, knowing how cold it is, steals one of Richies hoodies from the floor. Eddie can hear Bev call out to her as she rushes out the door, knot in her stomach as she thinks about how much last night meant to her, how happy she felt last night, and how heartbroken she is now. Richie had just left, said nothing, left no note, not even her phone number. Left Eddie in her bed, to be humiliated by her friends as she completed her walk of shame. All this time, Eddie had been hoping that maybe Richie actually liked her back, that she wanted the same things. 

Eddie vowed to never let her feelings get in the way of having fun. She could be like Richie, cool and confident, casual, and calm. She could be fun! And sexy! And have a good time with women while she’s in college. Then move on and marry an accountant, a respectable man with a 401k and a vacation house somewhere sunny. 

———

A few weeks into the new semester and Eddie is fully embraced as part of the Losers Club. Bev, Billie, Stan, Mike, Ben, and Richie. They welcomed her into their group, no questions. Eddie was awkward around Richie at first, neither of them bringing up the New Years party. It was still a tender wound for Eddie, painful but healing. It’s fine. She knew that Richie was kind of a fuckboy already, she just thought they had this, like, chemistry. Stupid of her. Dykey of her. She shouldn’t be wasting time thinking about that shit anyway.

Over time, Eddie began to loosen up for the first time. Having real, true, loving friends, she flourished into the sassy little asshole Bev says she always knew was inside of her. As it turns out, Eddie talks just as much, just as loudly, and much quicker, than Richie. Unleashed, unabashed, Eddie could go on for hours ranting or venting. Whenever she did, Richie smiled at her, softly. 

“What the FUCK are you looking at, dipshit?!” She shouted in Richie’s face one day after Richie stopped teasing her and just stared, open-mouthed as Eddie raved on about some fuckshit from class. All of a sudden, any awkwardness between them melted away. Now they could be normal friends. If Richie didn’t want to date her, Eddie hoped, they could at least be friends. 

It really fucking hurt, though, seeing Richie dance with, flirt with, make out with, other girls. She truly was a fuckboy, hooking up constantly, sitting girls in her lap at parties, pressing up behind them to “show them the proper way to play pool,” practically fucking them in the dark corner of the bar. Eddie felt herself get hot and needy every time she saw Richie smirk down at a pretty girl, hands big on her waist. She tried to be good, to be a supportive friend, be happy for Richie. She tried to flirt back with guys at the bar, to bat her eyelashes and gently place her hand on his chest. Nothing ever felt like it did with Richie, natural, easy, fun. Thinking about those men touching her the way Richie did, thinking about her in that way, made Eddie feel sick to her stomach. Every time she went out, Eddie would try to flirt with men, dance with them, but every time, she got uncomfortable and had to go find Mike, who was a big guy and usually deterred other men from interacting with her. 

Mike was so warm and kind, and always made Eddie feel safe. He had such comforting vibes, Eddie could stay pressed to his side for hours, talking about obscure history facts that Mike researched. Sometimes, when the world was too much, college overwhelming and sad about Richie, Eddie would cuddle up with Mike on a couch, and listen to him talk. So it was only natural she sought him out at the bar, to feel safe and comforted. 

———

Just after Valentine’s Day, the Losers go out to the local shitty bar that doesn’t card (especially for pretty girls). They're celebrating Bill’s play being chosen to be performed as the spring show in the school’s main production. Richie was particularly excited, as she fully expected to earn the leading romantic role, even though it was technically a man's part. In fact, she chastised Bill specifically, for not making the role a lesbian, essentially admitting that she really wanted him to write a part just for her. Regardless, Richie probably would get the starring role, never caring to limit herself to certain affectations or presentations, especially when it came to gendered expectations. If Richie felt like shaving and wearing nail polish, she would. If she felt like wearing cargo shorts and combat boots, she would do that, too. She was wholly confident in herself and comfortable as a big, loud, butch. 

At the bar, Richie was downing drinks as usual, flirting with pretty girls as usual, and grinding her hips into those girls' asses, as usual. She was dressed in a simple, classic Richie Tozier Look. Men’s blue jeans, with an ugly ironic t shirt, with an even uglier patterned short sleeved button up layered on top. It was heinous and busy, brightly colored and off putting, but for some reason, it only seemed to make her more attractive to the girls in the bar. The shirt accentuated her broad, thick shoulders, as well as her burly, strong arms. Hair a perpetual mess, thick rimmed glasses, septum piercing flashing in the stone lights, Richie looked something of a lesbian goddess—ineffable, radiant, with an easy charm that drew crowds to hear her tell lewd jokes about sex or disgusting bodily functions. 

Somehow, despite being every bit as crude and douchey as a frat bro, Richie still had an inherent charm and disarming earnestness about her. Girls lined up to get drinks from her, to dance with her. To feel her hands, strong and broad, gripping their hips, pulling them back against her chest, squeezing their waists, her face leaning close to theirs. It was hypnotic. Eddie tore her gaze from Richie and the random blonde she was dancing with, a deep ache in her chest, lungs expanding and retracting in quick succession. Oh, god. Oh, god. Maybe she needed her inhaler… Maybe she really was asthmatic after all! Why else would she get like this every time she saw Richie dancing, or talking, or laughing with other girls. Sometimes, the image of Richie holding her that way, dancing with her, pressing her against the filthy wall of the bar, snuck into Eddie's mind, trapping her there as she imagined what it would be like, being owned by Richie so publicly like that. The thought made Eddies pussy clench desperately, hot and yearning.

At the bar, a slightly older man had been eyeing her for a while now. Eddie set her shoulders, flipped her hair, and turned to smile up at him. His eyes immediately met hers, predatory and glinting. 

“Well, hello, there little doll. You’re looking a little lonely here. What happened, boyfriend left you all alone?” The stranger simpered, condescending. 

Eddie felt her eye twitch, but ignored it in favor of some free drinks. If she was going to watch Richie like that all night, she needed to be distracted as much as possible. 

“Oh, there’s no boyfriend, just me and some friends. We’re celebrating!” Eddie giggled, false and high pitched. 

The man didn’t notice, pupils dilating as he slid closer. His smile made some prey instinct beat in Eddie’s hindbrain, unfortunately dulled by the alcohol she has been consuming all night. She accepted the drink from him, and let him drag her by the arm onto the dancefloor. Stumbling, Eddie tried moving to the frantic tempo of the music, pounding through her skull as she tried to pay attention. His hands gripped her harshly, uncomfortably. It was getting hard for Eddie to stay upright, relying mostly on the man to hold her. 

Some time later, she’s being pressed against the wall, camouflage cargo pants sliding between her bare legs. Eddie doesn’t remember getting there. She pushes her hands against his chest, moves her head to look around for her friends. 

“What are you doing?! Get off of me, dude! Stop!” As he presses closer, muttering about her being good and sweet for him, Eddie starts to thrash around, kicking out, scratching his face. He rears back in shock and pain, and Eddie kicks out, pushing him back slightly. 

As she starts to move away, he grabs her wrist and yanks her back. Before she knew what was happening, Eddie felt a comforting arm snake around her waist and lift her away from the stranger. As her head rolled back, she saw a mess of black curls move past her as the man was knocked to the ground. 

The next time Eddie comes to, she’s being held firm against someone’s chest, a rhythmic rocking sensation she quickly recognizes as being carried. Bleary, Eddie turns to look up at Richie's face, features drawn tight, jaw clenched. She makes a noise of comfort, recognizing the safety of Richie’s arms, and gently raises a hand to trace her jaw. Continuing her brisk pace, Richie glances down at Eddie, eyes cold. Blinking slowly, Eddie tilts her head. She means to ask Richie what’s bothering her, but she passes out again before she can even open her mouth. 

Eddie is snuggled up in someone’s arms, warm and comfortable, when she opens her eyes. She’s about to turn over and press her face into Richie’s chest, inhaling the familiar warm, spicy scent, when her eyes widen. Stomach churning, she pushes away and stumbles into the hallway, throwing herself into the bathroom just in time. She’s shaking, clutching the side of the toilet, last night’s makeup streaking down her face, hair stringy and limp, retching. Eddie knows Richie is awake now, folding herself behind Eddie, gently holding her, pushing her hair back from her face. Richie softly sings to Eddie, cooing and pressing a reassuring hand across Eddie's stomach. 

When Eddie is confident she’s done, she pushes herself up on shaky arms, held steady by Richie’s chest and arms.

Breath ragged, Eddie turns to press her faces into Richie’s chest, curling in on herself. Eddie's chest clenches as she sobs into Richie’s neck, one supportive arm around her waist as the other gently holds the back of her neck. Richie hums softly in her ear, rocking her slowly. As Eddie's breathing starts to even out, she sniffs in and raises her head. Blinking through her tears, Eddie realizes that Richie is staring right at her.

“Richie… I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened, I don’t understand what’s going on. I just-I just want… I want to just go to sleep and get up and go to brunch and hang out like normal,” Eddie gasps out quietly. 

Leaning back slightly, Richie brushes the hair from Eddie's face, fingertips tracing down her cheek. She looks soft, tender like a freshly healing wound. 

“Eddie, darling. You had a really rough night last night. I don’t know what you remember but you were pretty drunk. I don’t know what exactly happened, but you were dancing with this fuckin creep… Next time I looked up, he had you pressed to the wall and you struggled to get away. I made my way over as quickly as I could, fuck. Babe. I was so, so worried. But you kicked him in the nuts like a fuckin badass gremlin...” Richie started to trail off, and Eddie tilted her head in question. 

“Rich? Then what happened? I kicked him and you took me home?” Eddie was so glad Richie had been there to make sure she got home safely… She probably had to turn down a night with some hot girl, in order to take care of Eddie's sloppy drunk ass. “Thank you for making sure I got home, Richie...I’m sure you wanted to spend the night with one of those girls you were dancing with,” Eddie said in earnest. 

Scoffing, Richie sniffed. “Eddie, listen. I will never leave you alone in some fucking bar, with men tripping over themselves for the chance to put their rotten hands on you. It doesn’t fucking matter my plans or who I’m with—you are my priority. Always. I will always fucking take care of you.” 

Shocked, Eddie feels her face flush at Richie’s confession, tears pricking her eyes again. With trembling lips, Eddie leans in and tucks her face to Richie’s neck, “You’re my very best friend, Richie. The best friend I’ve ever had.”

Lips pressed to the top of her head, cradled safely in Richie’s lap, she thinks I could get used to this.


	2. Chapter 2

After that night, Eddie felt another shift in her relationship with Richie. It’s like they were tethered by an invisible force, drawn together whenever they were in the same room. During Losers Club movie nights, they sat pressed close (or sometimes with Eddie nestled into Richie’s lap). If they were all out to eat, Richie made sure they sat next to each other. Walking down the street, Richie had an arm tight around Eddie's shoulder, or slung around her waist. They were extremely affectionate, easy and intimate. Eddie had never felt this before. Had never had friends, or siblings, or anyone to cuddle up with at night, safe beneath the soft blankets, warm from their combined body heat. With Richie, it was so easy to be intimate. Richie made everything easy, safe, and comfortable. Even their bickering was easy. 

Richie said some dumb bullshit, made some crude joke, and Eddie shot her right down (even though, truly, Richie made her laugh more than anyone). The losers throw Richie a huge birthday party, where she is gifted many lap dances from many hot girls. Richie threw her head back, laughing loud, hands tight around some girl’s waist, helping her grind down on Richie’s lap. Eddie longed, desperately, to be the one on Richie’s lap, to be held in her arms, to be the one Richie takes home and fucks. That night, Richie danced with many girls, did body shots off many girls, and kissed many girls. But she went home with only one girl. As the party came to an end, Richie bid a dramatic farewell to everyone, slipped her jacket over Eddie’s shoulders, and walked her home. 

Warm, comforted by Richie’s scent, Eddie looked up to where Richie was bopping along, nodding her head to a song in her head. Mouth twisted, Eddie clenches her fists as she steels herself. 

“Um, Rich?” She asks, voices cracking. 

Immediately, Richie’s bright blue eyes were on her, smile broad. “What’s up, Eddie Spaghetti?”

Biting her lip, Eddie looks away, hot under Richie’s unflinching, intense gaze. “Um, you sure had a lot of girls interested in you tonight. Well, I mean, that’s not like, anything new but. It’s your birthday, you know, so I thought..Well. I expected--”

“Spit it out, baby. What’s got your lacy little thong in a twist?” Richie teases. 

Affronted, Eddie turns her annoyed pout at Richie. “Don’t talk about a lady’s panties, Richie! How do you even know what I’m wearing?!”

Loud, stupid, annoying, Richie tips her head back and laughs, teeth flashing in the dim lights of the street. 

Eddie stands, pouting, arms crossed, staring defiantly up at Richie. 

“It’s not funny, asshole! I’m a respectable young woman! Don’t be so crass,” she sniffs. 

Richie abruptly stops laughing, and stalks toward Eddie, slinking like a panther in the shadows. As she peers down, Richie runs her eyes up and down Eddie’s body, smirking as she does. Her hands--big, so big, so warm--cup Eddie’s cheeks and force her to look into Richie’s eyes. 

“Ohhh Eddie my love. I wouldn’t go around calling yourself a respectable young lady. Do good girls wear lacy red thongs, flashing their ‘fuck me’ eyes to get what they want? Is it respectable to get out of the shower, dripping wet, body pink and warm, and leave the door open while you change? Just let anyone in to see your pink cunt open while you bend over while you get dressed. I don’t think that’s what good, respectable girls do, miss Kaspbrak. So forgive me for mentioning your slutty underwear,” Richie licks her lips and clenches her jaw, while Eddie trembles, blinking rapidly, pussy clenching, suddenly dripping wet. 

As a car drives by, loud, Richie blinks and steps back, the moment forgotten. She presses Eddie close to her side and starts walking again. 

They hold hands the rest of the way, helping each other up the stairs, stumbling into bed and snuggling into the mountain of blankets Eddie has amassed. 

“Thank you, Eddie. For my birthday party,” Richie mutters as she presses a kiss to Eddie’s hair. 

Eddie squeezes both arms around Richie’s middle, presses her face to her chest. “You deserve it, Rich. You deserve the world,” she yawns, settling into Richie’s side as she drifts off. 

***

Eddie had resigned herself to just being best friends with Richie, as months passed with no indication of Richie wanting more. Although they were closer with each other than anyone else, Richie still sometimes went out, although it was much less frequent now than before that night. Eddie stopped trying to chat with guys at the bars, content to sway in her spot by the wall, or press herself platonically against Mike when a particularly good bop came on. Richie stopped taking girls home from the bar, instead, she left every night with Eddie, took her for late night breakfast, walked her home, and made sure she got tucked into bed, safe. 

As the semester begins winding down, Richie, Mike, Ben, and Stan prepare for graduation, while Eddie, Bev, and Billie are overwhelmed with finals and papers, projects, and late night sessions in the library. It left precious little quality time for the losers to spend together, everyone stressed about something. Even Richie, surprisingly, was tense for the entire month of May. She was writing her final one act play, which she was starring in, directing, and designing. 

She was being surprisingly quiet about it, which was so out of character it had the others losers concerned. Besides Eddie, Richie’s favorite thing to talk about was herself and how funny she is. The fact that she refused to give even a hint of her show had everyone worried about how raunchy and obnoxious Richie was going to make it. As the weeks dragged on before the show, Richie began spending less and less time with the losers. Eddie tried not to take it personally, although sometimes it was hard to breathe when she thought too much about it. 

Even though Richie had basically abandoned her--them--Eddie and the losers were first in line the night of her performance. Shoulders tense, Eddie bites her lip in anticipation of seeing Richie perform live. She was electrifying and charismatic and could command a room easily on a normal day, so seeing her deliberately performing, settling in to play a character she created, excited Eddie to no end. Her stomach clenched, thinking of Richie up there, exuberant, brilliant, shining for everyone to see. Among the crowd, Eddie had noticed, were a number of girls that Richie had definitely slept with.

“Blugh,” She slumped into her seat in the front row and rolled her eyes. The rest of the losers turned to look at her questioningly. 

“What!” Eddie whisper yelled, annoyed.

Giggling, Bev pats Eddie on the shoulder while the others laughed as well. 

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you all but stop fuckin laughing at me!” she snapped, huffing as she folds her arms across her chest. 

The lights flicker before dimming, and the host begins to go over the safety guidelines for the theater. It’s pretty clear that the “host” is actually just Richie doing one of her Voices, which makes Eddie smile. Not that she missed hearing Richie’s stupid Voices, no. It’s just because of how absurd it is during Richie’s final performance for her theater degree, that she’s using her airline attendant voice to get people’s attention. As Eddie settles in, she notices the scenery on stage—looks like some kind of medieval castle, which is strange and quite off brand for Richie. 

As it turns out, while the performance is a little off brand for Richie, it’s still recognizably her. It’s loud, crass, funny. About a princess kept away from the world, trapped with her mother, denied friendships and adventure. One day, princess Elizabeth meets a rogue, an outlaw. A woman who has no boundaries, lives free and says what’s on her mind, doesn’t fuss with women’s garments, wearing trousers and shirts and vests. This adventurer, Rebecca, takes the princess away and shows her how to take risks, meet new people, open up to life, adventure, friendships, love and heartbreak. It turns out the prim little princess was also a bit of a trashmouth, annoying and constantly talking. This story seems familiar to Eddie, and is a weird choice for Richie, but she still manages to make it quintessential Trashmouth. Rebecca was loud, uncouth, with bad manners and a charming personality. She picked up women along their journey and had clandestine affairs with many of them. 

By the time the show starts to wrap up, Elizabeth clearly doesn’t want to be ported from Rebecca, yet for some reason, she insists on returning to the life she knew before. But before she can go, Rebecca grabs her and confesses that she’s loved her the whole time, that she wanted to only be with Elizabeth, to hold her and make love to her and make her happy. Rebecca holds Elizabeth fiercely, cupping her face, saying what Eddie wished Richie would say to her. 

During the whole end scene, Eddie couldn’t help but tear up, gasping and sniffling in empathy for the poor princess. As the show ends, Richie turns to the audience to bow, eyes shimmering as she draws in a shaky breath. When the curtains close, Eddie stands in a trance. She’s only shaken out of it when the back of her neck starts to feel itchy. She turns, noting that not only are all the losers staring at her, but several women in the crowd are as well. 

“Seriously what the fuck is wrong with everyone?! I’m just standing here like a normal person, and everyone’s staring at me! Stop!!” Eddie pouts, brow furrowed. 

Everyone around her seems shocked, a little annoyed, and some even start to laugh. Again. Why are they laughing at her?! Eddie grabbed her purse and started to stomp off in a huff, when Bev reached out to stop her.

“It’s okay sweetheart. We’re sorry. You’re just so positively adorable and oblivious. We love you, honey. Don’t be mad at us. We have to go celebrate Richie’s big night!”

Eddie chews her lip, thinking. Does she want to have to witness Richie again, surrounded by beautiful women that want her to fuck them? Could she honestly handle another night of Richie’s hands gripping some other girl’s waist, bending down to whisper in their ears, grinding softly into them and moving their bodies just the way she wanted? Fuck, Eddie could feel it in her gut, the heartbreak and nausea. She sniffed, and replied, “I don’t actually know if I can make it tonight, guys. Like, obviously I’m sooo proud of Richie and want to congratulate her and everything, but like. I’m not feeling too well, and I have to get up pretty early tomorrow…”

As Eddie looked up, she saw everyone looking over her shoulder, faces ranging from concerned to devastated. Confused, Eddie turns to see Richie, dressed classically in a bright Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. Instead of the triumphant and smug look Eddie was expecting to see, Richie looked absolutely crushed. Like someone had just smashed all of her dreams.

“Hey, Rich. Your show was amazing! I can’t believe you wrote that! And directed and did the set design, and everything! Like, I’m really blown away!” Eddie exclaimed, amping up her enthusiasm to coax that look off Richie’s face. Eddie hated seeing that. All she wanted was that confident, arrogant, loud, obnoxious, caring, gentle Richie. Not this Richie who looked like her whole future had been ruined.

“Eds…. You really aren’t...going to come out with us to celebrate? You’re not...going to come with me?” 

“Er...Richie, you know you’re my best friend, and you know I support you! It’s just. I’m not really feelin it tonight, you know? It’s not like, personal or anything…”

The thing is, though, everyone could tell that it was personal, because Eddie is a terrible liar. They all knew she wasn’t tired, or that she had anything pressing to do. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. You could just be honest about your feelings, you know, Eddie. Especially after I just-- nevermind. I’ll see you around,” Richie waved half heartedly and slumped away, leaving Eddie confused while their friends looked at her in pity. 

“Look, guys. I know my crush on Richie is like, super obvious! And that I clearly made her uncomfortable. But--”

“Oh my god, Eddie!! Can you please stop being so fucking stupid! How could you sit through that whole entire fucking show and still not kow?! Your ‘crush’ is not unrequited, you dumb gay bitch!! Richie is so fucking in love with you! Everyone who has ever met the two of you knows it! She wrote that whole fucking show for you! To show you how she feels!” Bev grabbed Eddie by the shoulders and shook her hard.

Eddie was shocked. Richie was in love with her? But, after that night, when they...fucked...Richie left! Eddie woke up and Richie was gone in the morning!

Blinking away tears, Eddie turned away from everyone. This didn’t make any sense. Richie had never indicated, well, never seriously indicated that she was interested in Eddie that way… She flirted with every girl! She treated every girl that way! Didn’t she?

Eddie couldn’t wait for the others, couldn’t wait until tomorrow. She had to go find Richie. She ran backstage, yelling for Richie, looking everywhere. The cast and crew looked at her a little sadly, and told her that Richie had gone home.

Chest tight, Eddie could feel herself slipping into an asthma attack--no, a panic attack. I don’t have asthma! I don’t have asthma! It’s just--

Eddie burst out of the theater, blinking away her tears as she made her way to Richie’s apartment, gasping out ragged little breaths with every step. In front of Richie’s door, she sniffs, swipes at her eyes, and knocks. 

When Richie answers, her eyes are puffy, red rimmed, dark smudges underneath. Her eyebrows draw in when she takes Eddie in, “Eds...Wh-what are you doing here? I thought that.. I thought you--” 

Eddie cuts her off, presses her hands to either side of Richie’s face, standing on her toes, “Richie--is it true? You love me? You’re in love with me? I never thought you could feel the same, I thought you just flirted with every girl, I thought you just saw me as your little fucked up hypochondriac friend, but, but, but everyone says, they say you love me too. Richie? Is it true? You love me?” 

They stand, Eddie biting her lip, gazing up into Richie’s bright blue eyes, when Richie starts to laugh. 

“Oh, Eddie Spaghetti, you absolutely dumb fucking bitch. How could you not know, all this time? You really didn’t know how I felt? How I feel?”

“Wh-No! Richie, how could I know! I woke up that morning and you were gone! I got the hint, okay! You wanted to avoid an awkward morning so you just left… right?”

Clenching her jaw, Richie grasps at Eddie’s waist and leans down, “You little dumbass. Eddie. Baby. Sweet girl. I left to go get you some breakfast. I wanted to surprise you with something sweet from that bakery you mentioned. When I got back, you were long gone… I thought you didn’t want me back. I thought maybe you were just experimenting and that you decided to go back to being a repressed straight girl. All this time? You’ve wanted me all this time?”

Nodding, eyes wide, Eddie gasps as she feels herself being pulled into Richie’s apartment, back pressed against the wall as she’s lifted.

“Oh, babygirl, you have no idea how I’m going to absolutely ruin you…” Richie whispers as she bites at Eddie’s neck harshly, knee wedged up between her thighs.


End file.
